


the heat within

by LadyMerlin



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aftercare, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Companionable Snark, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Gender Issues, Gender politics, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Slow Build, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-01-26 05:36:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12550304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMerlin/pseuds/LadyMerlin
Summary: Yahaba spends the week before his heat in absolute misery.





	1. Chapter 1

Yahaba spends the week before his heat in absolute misery.

His back and hips ache, his skin is hyper-sensitive, and he’s dripping wet _all the time_. It’s annoying, because his slick soaks into his shorts and sets everyone around him on edge, from teachers to classmates to his volleyball team. Even strangers on the bus watch him with shiny-bright eyes and clenched fists, and it makes him _sick,_ the way they look at him.

It’s stupid, but he’s really tired of his underwear being sticky and cold all the time. If he thought he could get away with it, he’d go without, but that would only lead to trouble either way. People got stupid around omegas in heat. Stupider than usual.

It was possibly why omegas were so rare, because heats were just really fucking inconvenient, and because women with uteruses could give birth to babies just fine without going into rut. Yahaba hated that for most of the people around him, he was the only omega they knew. It made him feel so alone, because no one understood the lava seething under his skin, or the hunger in his belly, or the gaping _emptiness_ between his legs. Not even his parents or his friends, no one.

Most people treated him alright. It was still taboo to hurt omegas, but god knew taboos rarely stopped people from doing what they wanted to. He’s grateful, and angry that he’s grateful for basic decency, that no one’s ever touched him or demanded from him what he didn’t want to give. Sometimes he wishes someone would try, just so he could throw a punch and bloody a nose or two, just to release some of the pressure building up within.

He wishes he’d never been born.

Two days into pre-heat, he’s snarling at people, snapping at the slightest provocation and flinching from casual touches. He doesn’t want his own mother to touch him, and he hasn’t been able to sleep. He’s ready to rip his own organs out and die in a hole somewhere, just to escape how jittery he feels.

Some part of him wishes that heat would just kick in, because the sooner it starts the faster it will be over. But a larger part of him is dreading it, because he knows it’s going to be miserable. Solo heats always are, because – although he isn’t speaking from experience – manufactured pheromones and silicone toys are all very well, but nothing works quite like an alpha to soothe a rutting omega.

The third day finds him sweating despite the cool climate. His t-shirt is soaked through and he’s feverish, and when three separate people offer him their kerchiefs, he slaps their hands away and walks out of the classroom, ignoring the teacher who is just walking in. They’ll get over it. He doesn’t think anyone in the world would blame him, in his shoes.

He hides in the gym for two periods, hitting balls and focusing on the feel of the solid plastic under his hands to distract him from the heat in his body. It works, until some first years stumble in, attracted by the scent, and Yahaba nails one of them in the face with a volleyball when he gets too close.

He’s immediately ashamed, even though he knows it’s normal to be violent and possessive, territorial. The gym is _his_ territory, and though he knows there’s a limit to how much misbehaviour will be allowed, he can’t help it. He’s jittering out of his own skin and half-tempted to skip practice so he can go home and soak in a bath, but he knows Oikawa would track him down and make him practice even if he was bleeding from a knife wound.

A heat is no excuse, he’d say, and Yahaba would have no choice but to punch him, and then Iwaizumi-san would be forced to retaliate, and it wouldn’t end well for anyone.

So he goes for practice and Iwaizumi sets him running laps outside the gym, where he can’t distract stupid first-years with his stupid hormones. He rolls his eyes but it’s a mercy, and he’ll take what he can get.

He’s on the fourth lap when Kyoutani pulls up beside him and silently starts keeping pace. He doesn’t say anything, so Yahaba doesn’t either, and it’s miraculously not the worst thing ever. Kyoutani doesn’t set his skin itching like some others do, with their desires clearly writ on their faces. Kyoutani’s not making eye-contact, but he never does, so the normalcy is refreshing.

He’s just running with Yahaba, and they keep running until the sun dips low in the sky and Yahaba’s legs give up and he collapses onto the dirt behind the gym. Kyoutani glares at him, but it’s not an angry glare. When he offers a hand to help him up Yahaba, who hasn’t touched anyone in days, accepts.

“Thanks, Kyou-kun,” Yahaba offers, voice gritty, like he hasn’t used it in a while. He probably hasn’t. He can’t remember the last time he spoke.

Kyoutani blinks but doesn’t look overtly surprised, shakes his head. He keeps his thoughts to himself, and it’s a _relief_.

Later that night Yahaba tells his parents that he wants to book a heat-house, and they do it for him because he’s so hot he can’t see his computer screen clearly. Because they live in a small town and not a city, there are no established heat-hotels. Instead, they have a few small heat-houses on the outskirts of town, which sit unused and dusty until needed, free-of-charge for omegas to use during their heats, managed by the neighbourhood association to keep them clean and ventilated. A throw-back from when omegas were much more common.

The booking is painless, if a little embarrassing, because his parents look like they want to soothe him but don’t know how. His sister looks like she’s scared to even touch him. He wants to peel his skin off and soak in a hot bath, or a cold one maybe, as though that would make him feel better. He sleeps with the aircon on that night, a desperate attempt to escape the heat within. It doesn’t work.

The next day, Kyoutani sticks with him, along with Watari. They don’t say anything, not to him or to each other, but they manage to glare-off any well-meaning interlopers, and it’s probably for their own good because Yahaba is feeling particularly murderous. He’s grateful even as he resents their pity. Thankfully, neither Kyoutani nor Watari seem overly affected by his hormones and he spends the entire day relatively unmolested.

On the way home someone catcalls Yahaba, and Kyoutani has to physically hold him back from murdering a random passer-by, but that could have happened even without his heat, so it didn’t count. Kyoutani accompanies him home and stands at his front gate until Yahaba’s mother closes the door behind him.

The day after, people stop making eye-contact with him. Girls and boys flush and avoid even looking at him, and he feels his own face flush with heat. A girl sitting two tables away crosses her legs and smooths her skirt over her thighs and Yahaba thinks he could cheerfully murder her. He feels like _filth_ , and people are getting off on it. It’s disgusting.

He slumps over his desk in class and not a single teacher corrects him, not even the one who’d made him stand for a month in her class to break his habit of slouching. His eyebrows are permanently furrowed in a frown and his thighs are constantly sticky-hot, chafing against his clothes. There’s a low-level thrum in his head that feels like nails on a chalkboard, and he’s rending apart from the inside.

He thinks he won’t come back to school tomorrow. He’ll take his stuff over to the heat house and sit in the tub until madness takes him over, and hopefully he’ll be sane on the other side of it. Kyoutani accompanies him home again, but doesn’t stop at his front gate and instead follows him home.

Yahaba is snappish when he introduces Kyoutani to his mother, but he hopes both of them know he doesn’t mean it. Kyoutani asks for ice water and peppermint oil and follows Yahaba up to his bedroom.

“Why are you trying to help me?” he snaps when Kyoutani muscles him into bed and tells him to apply peppermint oil to his pulse points, on his temple, under his jaw, on the inside of his wrists. Yahaba hasn’t even got the sentence out of his mouth before he realises that it actually makes him feel better, almost instantly. The oil is shockingly cool on his hot skin, though he doesn’t know if it’s actually cool or if it just feels that way. A shiver runs down his spine and Kyoutani dunks a towel into the bucket of ice water.

“My mother was an omega,” Kyoutani replies, and it’s bar-none the _calmest_ thing Yahaba’s ever heard him say. “She suffered a lot after my father died, because of heats.” He wrings the towel and drops it over Yahaba’s face, because even when he’s nice he’s an asshole. When Yahaba’s done sputtering in shock, Kyoutani folds the towel and presses it against his forehead. It feels – it’s the most _heavenly_ thing he’s ever felt. He moans a little, helpless, goes boneless.

“Has no one ever taught you this?” Kyoutani asks, dry and mocking, but still gentle.

Yahaba shakes his head. “None of the books talk about it. My doctor didn’t tell me anything about heat. No one in my family has ever been an omega.” Kyoutani replaces the towel on his forehead with another one and Yahaba imagines he’s actually steaming where the cold cloth meets his skin, like a hot pan flecked with water.

“Peppermint helps, obviously,” Kyoutani says. “If you want to unbutton your shirt,” he starts, but Yahaba is already doing it. Now-a-days he’ll take any chance to take his clothes off. Anyway, it’s not like Kyoutani hasn’t seen him strip before. He doesn’t pull his arms out of the sleeves, because he’s not moving if he can help it, so Kyoutani just puts another towel on his chest and Yahaba actually blisses out for a second. His heart stops racing and he finally feels like he can breathe, and before he can even process it he’s tearing, pressing his face into Kyoutani’s knee, face flushing from how overwhelming it is.

In another life, in any other circumstance, he thinks he’d have died of shame from being this needy. In this life, he lets Kyoutani use a cold towel to wipe down his cheeks, to dab his eyelids beneath which his eyes burn and sting. He hasn’t been able to see right for a while, so when his vision swims into focus, Kyoutani is the first thing he’s seen clearly in days.

He studies the other boy, with his yellow-blonde hair and curiously dark eyebrows, with eyebags and the oddest little dimple tucked into his right cheek, even when he’s scowling. “Was?” he asks, and it may or may not be the first coherent thought he’s had in a while, aside from anger and misery. Kyoutani, to his credit, doesn’t pretend to misunderstand.

“Bonded omegas don’t last much longer than their mates.” He shrugs. “It was a mercy, in the end.” The quiet grief in his voice is enough to make Yahaba close his eyes and press his face against Kyoutani’s thigh, seeking and giving comfort in equal measure. It’s disconcerting, how quiet Kyoutani is being.

“Did you spend heats with your mother?” he asks, shuddering when Kyoutani rubs strong fingers through his hair, loosening the clutch of the headache that set in days ago.

Kyoutani hums. “After dad, her heats weren’t sexual. She wouldn’t have been able to have babies if she’d wanted them. It was like a week-long fever. I’d just take some time off school and stay with her. It helped both of us.”

“Will you stay with me?” The question is out before Yahaba can even think about it, the words pouring out of his mouth like so much nonsense. He knew it wasn’t the done thing. Yahaba and Kyoutani were nothing to each other, classmates, teammates, maybe friends, but what did that matter? Yahaba would be more vulnerable than he’d ever been in his life, during his heat. A strong alpha – a strong _anyone_ could do _anything_ to him and he’d be powerless to stop them. Kyoutani’s hands stilled.

“You can take that question back, you know.” Kyoutani’s voice is back to its usual sharpness. “You don’t trust me and you weren’t thinking. I won’t be offended,” he snaps, tone belying the lie. It’s just about then that Yahaba realises he _does_ trust Kyoutani, for whatever reason. It’s a startling realisation to have when your head is on someone’s lap, and at the same time, somehow obvious. Even Oikawa sempai hasn’t been to his house before, and he just let Kyoutani into his bedroom. Just like that.

He trusts Kyoutani to have his back, whether they’re in class or in practice or in a game, and they _are_ friends. They’ve become friends without Yahaba even realising. He doesn’t know about anything else, doesn’t know what it will mean for them in the long run or even the short term, but he _does_ know there isn’t anyone else he’d trust to be there during his heat, except for maybe Watari, who’s about as sexless as a slug (in his own words).

“The only reason I’d take that back is if you’re not comfortable, Kyou-kun. I can’t – there’s no one else I’d – you’re my friend. I haven’t been comfortable in days and you’re the only one – it’s selfish but.” The thoughts come stumbling out, stuttering after one another until Kyoutani starts carding his hair again.

“Okay,” he says gruffly. “I’ll come with you.”

And suddenly nervous trepidation fills Yahaba. “You won’t judge me, right? I don’t remember much but I remember – last time – I begged. I think.”

Kyoutani makes a derisive _tch_ and uncaps the bottle of peppermint oil. “I’ll only judge you how I normally judge you. It’s heat, Yahaba, not something you chose.”

“Shigeru.”

“Shigeru,” Kyoutani accepts. “You know I’ve never spent heats with anyone right? I mean, she was my mother. I’ve never actually been – I don’t know what I’m doing, you know that, right?”

“Kyou-kun, I’m not stupid. There’s less than ten-thousand omegas left in the world. There’s not a single omega around these parts, apart from me. Not one. We’re seventeen. Neither of us know what we’re doing.”

“Aren’t you afraid that the mad dog will hurt you?”

Yahaba doesn’t say anything but pushes himself up, shaking a little from the effort of moving so suddenly, and lurches at Kyoutani, limbs flailing careless of where he’s going. Kyoutani catches him effortlessly and rearranges Yahaba so he’s sitting in the cradle of Kyoutani’s lap. He tucks Yahaba’s face into his neck and tangles his fingers with Yahaba’s own between their bellies. Yahaba grins into the slightly stubbly skin of Kyoutani’s neck. Kyoutani’s actions are un-practiced but completely unselfconscious, and unhesitating. “You wouldn’t hurt me,” he says, and he’s sure of it. “I trust you.”

Something inside Kyoutani seems to release and he pulls Yahaba even closer to him. Yahaba lets his lips touch Kyoutani’s neck in what _might_ be a kiss but isn’t because his parents are still downstairs.

“Are you planning to spend your heat here?” Kyoutani asks after a moment of silence.

“No, I’ve booked a heat-house on the edge of town.”

“Are you going to tell your parents that I’m coming with you?” he asks, and Yahaba understands the real question underlying it. He’s not ashamed of this.

He nods. “They can’t do anything about it. I’m past the age of consent for Omegas.”

“But will they object? Because I’m not past the age of consent myself.”

Yahaba bites Kyoutani’s jaw. “No, they won’t. If I know my parents, and I do, they’re downstairs crying in relief that there’s someone whom I’m comfortable with, for this. I’ve been suffering this every twelve months since I was thirteen and no one’s been able to help.”

Kyoutani shudders and tugs at Yahaba’s hair, and Yahaba suddenly regrets that he can’t see Kyoutani’s face. “Is this really you, Shigeru? Are you going to regret this once it’s over?”

Yahaba does him the courtesy of thinking about it. “No, Kyou-kun. I’m not. I’m miserable and achy and itchy but I’m still here. It’s really me.”

“It’s just that you never really seemed to like me before this.”

“Neither did you, Kyou-kun. And here you are, when I haven’t touched anyone else in a week. Just because we’re not like our sempais doesn’t mean we’re not friends—I mean.”

“Kentarou. Friends call each other by first names, right?”

Yahaba lets himself curl into Kentarou so he can hear his heartbeat. “Yes.”

“How far away are you, Shigeru?”

“Two days. Three, maybe.”

“You should take tomorrow off to settle in. I’ll come on Friday afternoon. I’ll go settle things with Iwaizumi.” Yahaba nods and sighs. “Want to go to bed?” Yahaba nods again, because words are suddenly too much. The peppermint oil is wearing off and his vision is blurring again. “Shower first?” Yahaba nods.

“I’ll call your mum.” Yahaba thinks to protest, to ask Kyoutani to help him instead, but Kyoutani isn’t shy about nudity, so there must be another reason for it. He lets it be. There’s a shuffle of limbs and movement until Yahaba finds himself on the bed, blinking dumbly up at Kyoutani, who’s applying more peppermint oil to his face. Yahaba’s just about to let himself sink into the wash of coolness, eyes fluttering shut when Kyoutani lifts his face with gentle fingers under Yahaba’s chin and drops a kiss onto Yahaba’s lips. His face catches fire again, but it’s a different kind of heat which leaves him speechless and dumb, pressing his fingers against his own lips long after Kyoutani is gone, flashing-dimple-grin burned into his minds’ eye.

When Yahaba gets out of the shower, he finds Kyoutani is gone, but has explained everything to his parents already. His parents seem impressed, if a little wary – and who wouldn’t be – and Yahaba doesn’t have a single regret.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note the updated tags, sorry ma

Yahaba is just about settled into the heat-house when he realises that he’s over-estimated his own stamina. He’s fading fast into full-blown heat and it’s only three in the afternoon. He’s not going to make it till the end of day. He’s about to vibrate out of his skin when there’s a knock on the door. He peers through the peep-hole first, out of habit, even though his vision is so hazy that he’s not able to make out who’s on the other side. “It’s me,” comes Kyoutani’s familiar voice, and then Yahaba can’t let him in fast enough. When the door swings open, Yahaba is assaulted by the smell of alpha, strong enough to make him shake.

Kyoutani pulls him into a hug and lets Yahaba sag against his body as he does up all the locks and latches to keep them safe and barricade them in. The heat-house is basic but clean, and it doesn’t smell like anyone except Yahaba and now Kyoutani, which is a relief.

“Clothes on or off?”

“Off,” Yahaba says, and it’s a plea. Kyoutani fills a couple of bottles with cold water from the tap and leads him into the bedroom. He turns on the air-conditioner and neatly unbuttons Yahaba’s shirt with steady hands, a feat Yahaba himself wouldn’t have been able to manage. He drapes the shirt neatly on the back of a chair and Yahaba thinks the shirt can burn for all he cares, he just wants Kyoutani’s attention on him and says as much.

Kyoutani presses a careful hand against Yahaba’s chest, on the smooth skin right over his heart, and watches Yahaba from beneath thick lashes for a reaction. “Will you kiss me?” Yahaba asks, trembling almost violently.

Kyoutani doesn’t make him ask again, just leans in and presses his lips against Yahaba’s. It’s possibly the gentlest kiss Yahaba has ever had, sweet and dry, Kyoutani’s lips soft against his own cracked skin. He tries to deepen the kiss but Kyoutani doesn’t allow it, holds him back and still, hands wrapped around Yahaba’s wrists. Yahaba _doesn’t_ whine. Kyoutani runs hot hands up and down Yahaba’s bare chest before going for Yahaba’s shorts. Yahaba grabs his hands and he stills. “I’m. uh. I won’t last.” It’s embarrassing, how close he is.

Kyoutani snorts and even _that’s_ attractive. “Idiot. You’re going to last a week. What does one orgasm matter?” he asks, and Yahaba knows what he means despite how it sounds.

“Never done this before,” Yahaba mutters, suddenly unable to meet Kyoutani’s gaze. Kyoutani stills but not for long. When he moves to unzip Yahaba’s shorts, Yahaba doesn’t stop him. When Yahaba is down to nothing but damp briefs which do nothing to hide the bulge in front, Kyoutani pushes him back onto the bed and crawls on top of him. It should have been terrifying, but it’s the most secure he’s felt in a long time, caged in by Kyoutani’s strong arms and legs. Kyoutani’s body is so close to his that Yahaba can feel his body heat radiating through the air. It makes him want to curl into it like a bug, to make Kyoutani surround him and keep him safe. It’s only a little embarrassing.

Kyoutani kisses him again, properly this time. He licks at Yahaba’s lips until his mouth opens, and then he’s everywhere. It’s a little wet, but it’s perfect, with Kyoutani’s warm tongue and teeth everywhere, one hand cupped around his jaw and holding him still. Yahaba feels his heart rate stabilise and breathes in deep. Kyoutani tastes like purple sports drink and spice, smells like soap and clean skin, feels like a warm bath, relief for his aching bones.

And then Kyoutani’s other hand brushes against the front of his briefs and Yahaba almost bites his tongue off. There’s a moment of snorting laughter before Kyoutani presses his forehead against Yahaba’s and makes eye-contact. It sizzles through Yahaba. “If I do anything you don’t want—”

Yahaba shakes his head. “I want this, Kentarou. I think I’ve wanted it for a long time. I hate my heat, but I think if left to my own devices it would have taken me a lot longer for me to get my act together.” He flushes and glances away before looking back at Kyoutani, just as sure. “Please take care of me.”

Kyoutani shudders and brushes the front of Yahaba’s briefs again, but holds him down so he can’t buck. The sensation shocks up his spine, and Kyoutani seems satisfied with his reaction, because he does it again, dipping his fingers under the elastic of Yahaba’s underwear to touch bare skin, slick with sweat and pre-come. Yahaba’s mouth drops open and he feels his soul escape through his mouth, his eyes squeezing shut. Kyoutani folds his briefs down until they’re a tight band around his thighs and Yahaba is completely exposed, and takes Yahaba’s cock into his hand. He’s slick enough that there’s not much resistance, but not so slick that he can’t feel the callouses on Kyoutani’s fingers and palm.

Kyoutani’s strokes are firm and sure, sparking heat and light inside Yahaba, but it’s over when Kyoutani pulls Yahaba’s lower lip between his own and sucks. Yahaba comes hard, messily all over Kyoutani’s fingers and on his t-shirt, and when Kyoutani makes to pull away Yahaba doesn’t let him go. He doesn’t even know when his hands moved to Kyoutani’s strong shoulders, but he’s not going to let him go. He pulls the other boy into a kiss and uses the moment of surprise to turn them so he’s sitting on top of Kyoutani. He’s not sure why Kyoutani’s still fully-dressed but Yahaba knows he wants to touch skin.

He fumbles with the hem of Kyoutani’s t-shirt and doesn’t give up even when Kyoutani pushes his hands away, doesn’t let up from the kiss until Kyoutani holds his wrists in his own careful grip. “Yahaba, you don’t have to.” It’s incongruous enough that he blinks at Kyoutani in surprise. “I can take care of you, you don’t have to—”

It’s possibly the stupidest thing Yahaba has ever heard and he says as much. “I don’t need someone to take care of me. I want you to share my heat, Kentarou. I thought I made that clear.”

“Are you sure?” Kyoutani asks, uncharacteristically soft. “Are you really sure?”

“I am absolutely, one-hundred-per-cent certain Kentarou. I want this and I want it with you.” Kyoutani releases his grip on Yahaba’s wrists and nods. Yahaba goes for it. He’d been planning to use his hand, for now, but there’s still a shade of doubt in Kyoutani’s eyes which must be _erased_. He slides out of his own ruined briefs and then drags Kyoutani’s sweat-pants down his thighs. He’s not wearing anything underneath and Yahaba’s mouth waters, so he doesn’t resist.

He’s never done this with anything other than toys, but the taste of salt and skin in his mouth is almost heady and familiar. Kyoutani’s wet too, not like he is, but enough to taste, enough that Yahaba’s own mouth starts producing saliva. Kyoutani’s not as long as he is, but he’s thicker, especially at the base of his cock where his knot would be, enough that it’s hard for Yahaba to get the full girth into his mouth without his jaw beginning to ache. Kyoutani’s gasping above him, hands clenching helplessly in the bedspread, staring down at Yahaba. He feels powerful from the intensity of Kyoutani’s gaze. He hums and bobs his head and Kyoutani’s hands rest on his head as though helpless against the need to touch. Yahaba approves. He’s probably not great at this, but that won’t stop him from trying.

Yahaba redoubles his efforts, swirling his tongue around the tip of Kyoutani’s cock, revelling in the way Kyoutani’s hips start bucking a little, like he can’t quite help himself. Yahaba noses in to Kyoutani’s hip, takes Kyoutani deeper inside his mouth until his cheeks are bulging and there’s fluid dripping from his mouth. He isn’t sure when Kyoutani’s fingers tangled in his hair, but they grip tighter and tighter until each point of contact on Yahaba’s scalp is stinging awareness, making him tear and whine.

Kyoutani’s cock is hot steel in his mouth, and the smell of pheromones is almost overwhelming, but in the best possible way. Yahaba himself is so wet that his slick is dripping out of him, making his thighs slippery and shiny. He has no doubt that Kyoutani can smell him too.

He pulls off Kyoutani’s cock, and Kyoutani doesn’t protest. On one hand Yahaba is impressed with Kyoutani’s control, but on the other hand, he’s a little disappointed that he hasn’t driven Kyoutani wild yet. “Wanna come in my mouth? Or d’you wanna fuck me?” he asks, and his words are slurring, jaw a little numb from the exertion. He’s still in control for the moment, but he’s pretty sure he’s going to lose it the moment Kyoutani holds him down and fucks him properly.

Kyoutani looks a little torn. “I’m probably going to knot,” he starts, and Yahaba cuts him off.

“Alright, then you have to fuck me.”

“I was thinking you might not want a knot the first round?”

Yahaba scoffs but presses his cheek into Kyoutani’s hand when he strokes his cheek. “I’m going to lose my shit when you knot me,” he says, mouthing the little hip dimple right in front of him. “This is me giving you advance notice and consent. You can be rough with me, if you want. Hold me down, and stuff.” It’s a little embarrassing to be so frank, but he’s just had Kyoutani’s actual cock in his mouth, so Yahaba doesn’t think there’s really any going back after this. “I… uh. I’m a little demanding, I think. I’ve got some stuff in the box under the bed.”

Kyoutani’s eyes get wider and wider with every word from Yahaba’s mouth until they’re almost all pupil, all dark and velvet. “Contraceptives?” he asks.

Yahaba shakes his head. “I’m taking a pill and I’ve had a couple of jabs.”

“The internet says omegas go wild after they’re knotted, but remember Shige, if you want to stop, we will, okay?” Yahaba nods, more than a little enchanted with the way Kyoutani says his name, and crawls up so he’s face to face with the other teen.

Kyoutani kisses him again, and doesn’t even seem to mind that Yahaba probably tastes like his own come. Yahaba wonders idly if Kyoutani will come on his face some day, make a proper mess of him, then kiss him, like it doesn’t even matter. Yahaba hopes so. Kyoutani’s thumb rubs gentle circles around the pink of Yahaba’s nipple and then across it, making him whine, driving his quiet fantasy straight out of his mind.

The bed is large enough that there’s no danger of either one of them falling off, so Kyoutani takes the chance and topples them, turning so that Yahaba is beneath him and he’s on top. Kyoutani is so close that he’s shaking with it, even when he laves his tongue across Yahaba’s nipples, a little rough and more careless than he intended to be. The slightest prickle of stubble drags across his sensitive skin and it makes Yahaba gasp and twist and beg. Kyoutani’s cock is dragging hot and heavy on Yahaba’s skin and he can feel Yahaba’s own renewed interest stirring against his belly.

“Lube?” he asks when he can finally drag himself from the sore and puffy mess on Yahaba’s chest.

Yahaba shakes his head. “I’m so fucking wet it won’t be a problem,” he promises. Kyoutani shoots him as stern a glare as he can manage with his pupils so darkly blown.

“Shige, where’s the fucking lube. I’m going to wreck you, and I’d like to not actually hurt you while I’m at it.” Yahaba’s mouth falls open at the promise and he pulls a bottle of lube out from beneath a pillow without even looking, speechless.

Kyoutani cracks open the bottle while Yahaba shoves a pillow under his ass, knowing that they’re going to make a mess of it. The lube is still cold when Kyoutani pours it onto his fingers and pushes it into Yahaba. He’s so soft and wet that two fingers don’t feel like much except cold against his blood hot insides. Kyoutani presses into his soft spongy flesh, blunt nails dragging gentle lines inside him, making Yahaba squirm. Kyoutani pushes so much lube into him that Yahaba thinks he’s going to lose his mind with impatience, even when he realises that Kyoutani’s buying time so he doesn’t knot the second he gets inside Yahaba.

Yahaba doesn’t care, he wants it. He’s wet and gaping and _empty_ inside, and it’s so awful that he could cry from it. He desperately wants something more substantial than fingers inside him.

When Kyoutani finally lines up to slide into Yahaba, he whines in relief, sounding a little bit like a pressure cooker releasing a build-up of steam. Yahaba can't even bring himself to care. Kyoutani is firm and _heavy_ , and his hands are firm and strong, spreading Yahaba’s thighs apart and holding him in place. Kyoutani’s cock is scalding hot and gorgeously solid inside him and Yahaba can’t stop himself from clenching around it, just to feel how wonderfully full he is.

Kyoutani’s hands squeeze even tighter around Yahaba’s thighs but he doesn’t say anything, sinking in deeper until only his knot is left outside. Yahaba thinks he’s shaking. He can feel the obstacle that is Kyoutani’s knot, preventing him from being balls deep in Yahaba. It’s _huge_ and if he wasn’t shaking before, he’s starting to, at the thought of something like that inside him, cracking him open from the centre and cleaving him in half.

It’s going to hurt like a _bitch_.

Yahaba wants it so badly he can’t _breathe_. 

“Touch yourself,” Kyoutani commands and Yahaba obeys, wrapping fingers around his own cock. He’s hard enough to drill a hole through his mattress, his skin is flushed dark red and over-sensitive, and they haven’t even started properly yet. Kyoutani pulls out and fucks into Yahaba again, making him hiccough from how _much_ it all is. He’s actually grateful for all the slick inside him, because he thinks the friction would have been enough to set him on fire. The knot still doesn’t fit into him, and it’s making Yahaba more than a little needy, desperate. He tries to relax but sparks of feeling are running up and down his spine, making him arch and press into it.

Kyoutani does it again, thrusting harder and not stopping even when he doesn’t fit. Yahaba thinks he’s making little hitching whimpering noises, pleasure building up in his belly, a combination of his hand on his cock and the gorgeous stretch of Kyoutani’s cock inside him. He’s not sure, because the sound of slick skin on skin is almost deafening in the quiet of the room, the creak of the bed beneath them, the rush of blood inside him. He’s throbbing and he’d be surprised if Kyoutani can’t feel it inside.

“Please,” he manages to whimper, “ _please._ ” He needs Kyoutani’s knot more than he needs air at the moment, needs Kyoutani as deep inside him as he can possibly get.

Kyoutani is fucking him steadily, and he can hear his own cries rising to a fever pitch, higher and needier than he's ever been before. Every thrust is perfect, and the heat of Kyoutani's skin on his skin, inside him, is beyond perfect. Yahaba is slowly being driven out of his mind as his pleasure crests. On the next thrust Kyoutani fucks him so hard that his knot pops in and then stops. Yahaba would have wailed if he could remember how to control his vocal cords. As matters stood, he wasn’t sure he remembered his own name, eyes rolling helplessly into the back of his head, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

Kyoutani’s hands on his thighs aren’t as firm as they were moment ago, and one hand moves to touch where Yahaba’s rim is stretched obscenely, sealed tight around Kyoutani’s knot. His fingers are shaking. “You’re so tight,” he whispers, and Yahaba realises that this is Kyoutani when he’s overwhelmed, that this is affecting Kyoutani as much as it’s affecting him.

The entire world is still and fire is bubbling inside his belly. Yahaba can’t speak because his head is empty and silent, but his fingers wrap around his cock because he needs to get off before he loses his mind. Kyoutani wraps his hand around Yahaba’s and helps, pulling at his cock as steadily as he can, twisting his wrist at the end of each stroke. When Yahaba catches sight of how nice their fingers look, interlocked around his cock, he falls over the edge of his orgasm, sobbing and gasping for air.

When he comes, it's like someone has removed a pane of frosted glass from in front of his eyes and he can finally see clearly for the first time in days. He can feel his own body twitching, the twanging ache inside his gut that tells him he's going to be sore for some time to come, the squelch of fluids everywhere, and the stretch of Kyoutani's dick inside him, where he's holding so perfectly still, holding Yahaba down as he spasms through his orgasm. The way he clenches around Kyoutani’s cock inside him hurts in the best possible way. He knows he’s made a mess of himself, ropes of come all over his chest and on Kyoutani too, but it feels so good he doesn’t even care.

It's so perfect that he giggles from it, and the giggle bubbles into a laugh, and it's the best feeling in the world. He bends to look at Kyoutani, who's still on top of him, and Kyoutani's fingers clench around his hips to keep him still, and Yahaba feels Kyoutani's hardness inside him and knows he has all the power here. But Kyoutani doesn't look like he minds. In fact he's smiling to himself, a private little grin, kissing Yahaba’s hands and dropping kisses on shoulders, in the hollow of his throat. Yahaba trails a hand onto Kyoutani's bare hip and he stiffens, and Yahaba shoots him a smile. "I'm on contraceptives. Go for it, Kentarou." 

"I don't - Shigeru -" Kyoutani's face shutters and he stutters and blushes at the idea of coming inside him, and Yahaba _loves_ it.

"You have a beautiful smile Kentarou, but you're an idiot. Do you think I'd have done this if I wasn't sure?" 

Kyoutani scowls but his ears go red, and Yahaba resolves to compliment him more often. "You in your right mind?" 

"You know I am. Now come on, Kentarou. Take me like you mean it." 

Kentarou doesn’t ask again, just hitches Yahaba’s legs apart and twists his hips in a way that makes Yahaba’s entire body twitch and flutter. The movement tips Kyoutani into his own orgasm, and then Yahaba can feel him coming, so deep that he’s surprised he can’t taste it, can’t see it swelling up his belly or leaking out of his pores. Even though he's just come, he feels himself hardening again, agonisingly sensitive, nerve endings sparking like they'd been set on fire.

He’s fully aware that his thoughts are nonsensical, but that’s about all he’s aware of. There’s a pulsing throbbing roaring in his head, in sync with the thrumming in his chest, in time with the pulse of the rest of his body. It’s so loud and so strong that he wonders whether Kyoutani can feel it, where they’re connected. He wonders if his heart is about to beat its way straight out of his mouth. His muscles spasm, milking Kyoutani and making him twitch even when they both know he’s not going anywhere. Kyoutani’s panting too, knees shaking, and he’s still coming inside Yahaba.

In any other context it might have been gross, but Yahaba is greedy for it, he wants every single drop inside him and he wants to keep it there. He doesn’t care if it’s disgusting and if he starts to reek of Kyoutani’s come, he wants it inside him _always_ , the way he wants Kyoutani’s dick inside him like a battering ram between his legs, holding him open and pinned. He wants _more_ and he never wants it to stop.

Some instinct makes Yahaba wrap his fingers around his cock and stroke again, his own come barely easing the way. His cock is sore and raw, his body is still quivering, and he certainly hasn’t come down from his previous high. He’s in no way ready for the next one, but he tries anyway, trembling fingers jerking around his unwilling flesh. When Kyoutani lowers his mouth to Yahaba’s nipples and _sucks,_ teeth and stubble heightening the sensation into a fever scream in his head, Yahaba thinks he comes again, dry and gasping.

His vision goes white but he can feel Kyoutani come inside him again, looking a little shocky and drained. Yahaba thinks maybe he never stopped, and he _loves_ it. If he feels the knot loosen, he thinks he’ll cry, even if it means that Kyoutani can do this all over again. When he comes down a bit, he thinks he’s been babbling. His mouth is dry and his throat is a little raw, like he’s been shouting. He’s still not a hundred-per-cent himself, but near enough that when he feels Kyoutani’s hands around his biceps and his forehead pressed into his chest, something inside him warms.

Kyoutani looks up at him, curiosity in his eyes. “Your heartbeat picked up,” Kyoutani answers his unasked question. Yahaba flushes, and it’s funny that after everything they’ve done, that’s what embarrasses him.

“You feel nice,” he says, knowing even as he says them that the words are inadequate.

A smile pulls Kyoutani’s lips, revealing a dimple at the corner of his mouth. “Thanks for the feedback,” he says, making Yahaba laugh. Their laugh makes them groan, remembering the various ways they’ve abused their bodies.

“Was it okay for you?” Yahaba asks when they’ve recovered, suddenly desperate to know he hadn’t embarrassed himself too badly.

Kyoutani’s smile blossoms into a grin and he looks _gorgeous_ , especially when he starts dropping kisses onto Yahaba’s chest, as high as he can reach while he’s still knotted inside him. “I’ve never felt anything like it. It was completely different from what I saw online. In the videos, omegas screamed and made a lot of noise and it was a little nerve-wracking. You just got really quiet and intense and all I wanted to do was give you what you wanted. You didn’t beg, you just took, and you looked like you knew what you wanted so I just went with it. I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in my life.”

It’s entirely honest, and it’s the longest thing Yahaba has ever heard from Kyoutani in one go, and it’s great, it’s making him flush furiously, heat running all the way down his spine. He clenches his muscles once, hoping to get a grip on the way he’s trembling to pieces, but all it does is make Kyoutani hiss and almost head-butt his chest. That’s all it takes for the two of them to burst into laughter again. It’s already easily the best heat Yahaba has ever had.

It’s only a few more minutes before the knot starts loosening and the mess inside Yahaba starts leaking out, trickling down the insides of his thighs and making him squirm. Something of the loss must show on his face because Kyoutani reaches up to kiss him deeply even as he’s slipping out of Yahaba’s body. Kyoutani’s mouth on his is enough to make Yahaba forget that he’s empty again, that he’s emptying out everything he’d wanted to keep inside him. It’s _almost_ enough to make him forget that his insides feel like they’ve been mangled with an electric mixer, sensitive and sore all the way up to his belly button.

When Kyoutani is completely released he still doesn’t break the connection, crawling on top of Yahaba and kissing him deeply, cupping Yahaba’s jaw with his hands and tangling their tongues inside Yahaba’s mouth. It’s one of the most intimate things he’s ever done and he feels breathless from it, like he never wants this to stop. When Kyoutani makes to pull away, Yahaba follows him, keeping their lips pressed together until he’s sitting up, planted firmly in a devastating wet spot on the bed. He doesn’t even care, as long as Kyoutani’s hands stay on him, as long as Kyoutani’s mouth stays on his.

His heat still hasn’t passed, and of that he’s sure. He thinks even Kyoutani knows they’re not done yet. Yahaba just doesn’t want to let go, clinging on to the other boy like a limpet. “Let’s get you into a shower, okay?” Kyoutani finally manages to say when Yahaba’s forced to break for a breath.

Yahaba pouts but follows on shaky knees. Kyoutani wraps an arm around his hips for support as they hobble into the bathroom, which is basic but well-equipped enough with generic soaps and scentless shampoos. The soreness is setting in but Kyoutani’s hands are gentle on him, if lingering and curious enough to make him squirm.

Kyoutani’s fingers snag against his opening where he’s still lose and aching, stretched out from Kyoutani’s knot. He’s not sure what he looks like, but he thinks it might be obscene, like Kyoutani has actually wrecked him and stretched him beyond all use. Yahaba glares but can’t help but melt when Kyoutani just smirks in reply, and slides his fingers in, curling into place inside him. They’re not comparable in size to Kyoutani’s cock, but they’re enough of a reminder that Yahaba settles, making the tension melt from his back and neck.

They work together to change the sheets, neither bothering to get dressed after the shower. When Yahaba flops into the clean bed, Kyoutani curls around him, face pressed into his neck and legs interlocked, a hand pressed flat on Yahaba’s belly. Yahaba draws patterns on Kyoutani’s back until they both drift off, and it’s the best sleep he’s had in days.

When Yahaba wakes up, he’s on fire. He kisses Kyoutani awake and the second and third rounds go pretty much like the first. They’re exhausted and filthy, and if Yahaba hadn’t been taking contraceptives he thinks he’d _definitely_ be pregnant by now, Kyoutani has fucked him so well. The smell of their sex is engrained in his memory.

During the fourth round, Yahaba’s heat finally breaks. Yahaba knows because the fever that has been broiling beneath his skin for days is suddenly gone and he can feel the cool prickling of sweat evaporating off the back of his neck. It’s the first coolness he’s felt in a while.

He’s on his knees and Kyoutani is behind him, hands on Yahaba’s shoulders, between Yahaba’s parted thighs. It’s an incredibly suggestive position, but he can’t help but burst into laughter at how good he feels, how the cumulative afterglow of his many, _many_ orgasms makes him feel like he’s going to just float away.

Kyoutani backs away like he’s been scalded. Yahaba collapses onto the bed and knocks Kyoutani’s knees off balance so that he falls on top of him, landing gracelessly and squashing the breath from Yahaba’s lungs. Yahaba is still laughing when he pulls Kyoutani into a kiss.

“Do omegas go crazy after their heats break?” he asks into Yahaba’s mouth, sounding very much like he’s composing a question for a google search.

“I’m just happy, Kentarou. Every heat in my life has been miserable, but this one was good.” Kyoutani flushes and closes his eyes. “You took such good care of me, and I never realised how much—”

Kyoutani doesn’t let him finish. “Don’t thank me for that,” he says, so Yahaba doesn’t. “We should get dressed, then,” he continues, like he’s going to get up and actually move away.

Yahaba wraps his arms around Kyoutani even tighter. “What for? We’ve still got this place for two more days.”

Kyoutani nods, “but I thought—”

It’s clear what Kyoutani thought, but even this isn’t enough to spoil Yahaba’s good mood, to cut the buzz of endorphins in his veins. “See, that’s why you’re not allowed to think so much. Did you enjoy this?” he pauses to let Kyoutani nod. “Right, I enjoyed it too, and I like you, and if you like me, we should keep doing this.”

Kyoutani pauses to parse through his sentence. “I like you, Shigeru, but more than just a friend.”

Yahaba sighs loudly and pulls Kyoutani’s lower lip in between his teeth, a strange mimicry of one of their first kisses. “I like you too, idiot. More than a friend. Do you think I’d let Oikawa-san do this for me?”

“Oikawa is a beta, Shige.” Kyoutani sounds, despite his verbal protests, like he’s tasting Yahaba’s first name on his tongue, like he’s getting used to the flavour.

Yahaba sighs again, “alright, do you think I’d let Iwaizumi do this to me?” That gets the reaction he’s looking for when Kyoutani growls low in his chest and bares his teeth at the imaginary threat from another alpha. “Exactly,” he says, “I wouldn’t. I don’t want anyone but you, whether or not I’m in heat. Do you get that?”

Kyoutani rumbles deep in his chest, and then looks extremely embarrassed for having done that. Yahaba can’t help but kiss him, as sweetly as he can. Kyoutani melts into a puddle around him, especially when Yahaba starts scratching behind his ears, long slow lines in his scalp.

They’re both sweaty and more than a little disgusting, and someone’s stomach is gurgling loudly. There’s a mark on Kyoutani’s shoulder where Yahaba clearly bit him, at some point, and Yahaba wonders how he can get it to linger on Kyoutani’s tanned skin as long as possible. Kyoutani’s dick is still pressed against his belly, pinned between their bodies, and it makes him grin. Kyoutani pinches his side without even looking at his face, making him yelp and laugh.

Yahaba doesn’t think he’s laughed this much in a long time.

“So you like me too,” Kyoutani eventually ventures. Yahaba admires his courage.

“I definitely like you.”

“And you like me even when—”

“I like you for more than just your dick, I promise.”

Kyoutani’s teeth close delicately over his neck with no pressure, no threat. Even then, just the thought is enough to make Yahaba’s pulse speed up. He should have been all sexed out, he thinks, but he’s not, and he’ll be raring to go in just a few more minutes, especially if Kyoutani is just as into it.

“So,” Yahaba ventures, trying not to swallow hard. “What are your feelings towards bottoming?”

Kyoutani hums and licks the skin between his teeth. Yahaba shudders. “I’m fond enough of your dick to consider it. The question is; can _you_ handle me?” Kyoutani asks, and Yahaba can hear his shit-eating grin. He _loves_ it, loves that Kyoutani can be playful like this, that he can let his guard down and be friends. It means even more than the time they spent together during his heat, because now at least Yahaba is present for it. Most of the past few days is a blur.

“I’ll have you know,” Yahaba drawls, channelling Oikawa as best he can, “I’m excellent at handling balls.”

Kyoutani groans but lets Yahaba kiss him and turn them around, lets Yahaba straddle his hips and touch and feel and taste what he’d missed out on. Kyoutani lets Yahaba take care of him, the way he’d taken care of Yahaba in heat, and Yahaba thinks he’s going to take care of this man as long as he possibly can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay okay okay okay oKAY
> 
> *jazz hands* here's some smut happy weekend i'd apologise but ya'll asked for it and i'm not remotely sorry
> 
> in other news i'm amazed at my own ability to procrastinate i haven't written in months and suddenly when i'm busier than i have been ALL YEAR i can't stop writing help
> 
> edited for minor amendments on 26 November 2017, because i can't stop thinking about this

**Author's Note:**

> ... so. I mean, I've read lots of A/B/O things across a bunch of fandoms but I don't think I've ever written one? And I was just thinking about how angry _I_ get when, y'know, hormones. So. 
> 
> All in favour of porn, say Aye?


End file.
